Emergency Contact
by effulgentcolors
Summary: Based on this tumblr prompt: I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital.


She keeps her eyes stubbornly focused on her target while he runs down the street, horns blaring at him. Emma knows he has no way to go and she chases after him single-mindedly. She hears another horn, closer, _much_ closer, tires screeching, she feels her whole right side catch on fire before the world turns black.

/

She comes out of nowhere, like a vengeful goddess, blonde hair flying all around her. Killian steps on the brakes harder than he ever has in his life, his heart trying to beat out of his chest as he helplessly watches her body collide with the car.

/

"What do you mean she has no emergency contact?!" Killian runs a shaky hand through his hair, hating the hospital smell already seeping into his pores.

He had a client cancel a cruise today, which is always frustrating, he hasn't eaten anything since his morning coffee and croissant and he is dying for sleep. So, yeah, his plan was to wait until he knew the woman was alright and her emergency contact had showed up and then return again tomorrow to apologize and offer to cover her hospital bills and whatever else she deemed appropriate.

Of course, that plan is shot to hell now. He can't just up and leave alone the girl he put in hospital, accidentally or not. Sighing heavily, Killian settles into one of the questionably comfortable chairs in the waiting room, too nervous to venture in search of a vending machine before he has talked to her doctor.

/

Emma's eyelashes feel sticky and it seems like whole minutes tick by before she is able to blink them open. She feels like she is floating, like she doesn't even have a body to float in really. She feels disconnected. She also feels kind of high.

The lights and smells in the hospital room are unpleasant but seem too far away to bother her. She finds herself more focused on the man snoring softly in the chair next to her bed. His neck is gonna hurt like a bitch when he wakes up. That's the first thing that pops into Emma's mind. The second is that she won't mind too much if it turns out that she has amnesia and this happens to be her husband or something.

Emma tries to shift in the bed but her mid-section protests and she hisses sharply. The man startles next to her, his eyes wide and confused for a second before they focus on her and she watches guilt seep in.

"Well…" he smiles at her but it looks kind of pained. "I'm certainly glad to see you open your eyes, lass. I'm… I'm really sorry. I didn't see you and then… I swear I wasn't texting or falling asleep on the wheel or anything!"

 _Oh._ Now she is starting to remember. She was chasing her perp, completely ignoring the cars around in her pursuit. Emma almost feels bad because he is obviously blaming himself and she is pretty damn sure this is in no way his fault.

"They seemed unable to find your emergency contact. And I really didn't want to go through your phone so if you just tell me who to call for you, I'd be more than happy to. And also, you should probably know that the nurses tried to kick me out so I convinced them they will be considered accomplices, if they make me leave before you have decided, if you're going to sue me or not."

Emma has the very bad idea to laugh, her ribs protesting immediately.

"Sorry!" the brunet winces at her pain. "You have two fractured ribs and your right arm and leg are pretty bruised. They said they gave you medication for the pain but if you need more I can call for the nurse."

The last thing she needs is more medication, that she is sure of. Her head already feels like it's not properly attached to her shoulders and his rambling is doing absolutely nothing to diminish the charm of his accent. And he is so _pretty_.

"Excuse me?"

The guy's eyes (blue, so so blue, like the sea just before dusk starts falling down on it) are wide and amusement is slowly fighting its way through all the worry he seems to have accumulated for however long he has been sitting here.

Her mouth apparently voiced her thoughts before getting permission from her brain.

"You are veeeeery pretty," Emma grins up at the blue-eyed should-be-GQ-model and _oh boy_ , her brain is definitely out of commission.

This time the amusement shines bright and clear and a row of stunning white teeth flash at her when he grins.

"Why thank you, lass. Although I suspect your admiration has something to do with your medication."

"You talk funny."

Great. Now he probably thinks he hit a fucking retard.

"I'm not sure if you are referring to my accent or my vocabulary but I'm inclined to be offended either way."

Emma just smirks at him in what she hopes is a teasing way but is most likely as dopey as everything she has said so far. She really has no filter when too inebriated and, apparently, the same goes for when she is high on painkillers.

"But really, lass, do you want me to call anyone?"

He looks so eager to do something for her that Emma almost regrets shaking her head. But it's not like she has much of a choice.

"No one to call."

He frowns and she immediately itches to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows and the 'no filter' rule seems to be alive and strong as she raises her left hand towards him. He grabs her hand almost instinctively.

"What do you need, love?" he asks, leaning towards her, which is exactly what she needs.

Her hand releases his, skirting up his arm until it reaches his face and she pokes his cheek with her finger. His smile flares up as if on command and his tongue peaks out to run over his bottom lip.

" _How_ are you so pretty?" she asks, only now realizing how child-like her voice is coming out.

The man's laughter is hearty and deep and his eyes hold a warmth Emma is certainly unused to.

"Could ask you the same thing, love?"

"Am I pretty?" Emma's eyebrows jump up even as her muddled brain vaguely recalls that yes, she is considered an attractive woman.

"You are absolutely gorgeous," he says, dead serious and painfully sincere and man, she wishes her thoughts were less jumbled so that she could make a list of all the absolutely _unfair_ things about this man. "I thought I ran over an angel or something. It was quite traumatizing."

Her eyebrow jumps up on reflex and he has the decency to look sheepish.

"Not as traumatizing as it was for you obviously but I can assure you your ribs will be long past healed when I will still be dreaming of running over wingless, blond-haired angels."

Emma snores and pokes at his cheek again, with two fingers now, and discovers that she really likes the texture of his scruff under her fingertips.

"You are funny. And sweet," she sighs because obviously complex sentences are too much to ask for right now.

He hums and she feels his fingers lightly brush the back of her other hand.

"So I'm pretty, and I should say I'd ask for a better adjective to describe my dashing looks under other circumstances," he gives her a look and Emma has to push down on the urge to giggle like a school girl. "And funny and sweet. What else have you deduced about my humble person, lass?"

"Not humble," she mutters with some barely concealed amusement.

"Touché," he grins widely, his fingers becoming bolder as they tease the pinkie of the bandaged right arm.

"You look sad," she adds before furrowing her brows because this is not exactly true but there's something there. "You _used to_ be sad."

The guy looks a bit taken aback and his fingers freeze against hers and Emma feels a pang of something, thinking she has ruined whatever was happening here. But he just shakes his head slightly and gives her a tight smile, his fingers tangling further into hers.

"I used to. So did you, I'll wager."

Emma thinks she would have frozen too, if she didn't currently feel stripped of all inhibitions.

"I'm still sad sometimes. Often," she says it absentmindedly and it doesn't bother her too much as she is too busy watching her fingers slide down his jaw to push into the dimple on his chin.

"I'm sorry for making it worse," he replies and he means it, which is really all that matters to her.

"You made it better," Emma mumbles, finally dropping her hand, feeling exhaustion and her body's cry for rejuvenating sleep.

/

Emma wakes up disoriented and with a bad taste in her mouth. She definitely needs to brush her teeth.

The memory of last night comes back considerably fast but so fast that she doesn't try to sit up in bed at first.

"Easy there, lass. I believe I mentioned something about cracked ribs last night."

The voice has an oddly affectionate edge to it and it sounds, even more oddly, familiar. It's not until Emma focuses her eyes on the dark-haired man that she remembers waking up earlier to these same soft blue eyes.

"Hey," she manages to croak out and he hands her a plastic cup filled with water, which she takes gratefully even if she'll much rather have the streaming cup in his hand that she is sure carries the ambrosia that is coffee.

"Hello, love. It was only after you fell asleep last night that I realized I failed to introduce myself," he says as he takes a seat next to her again. "Killian Jones."

"Emma Swan."

"Well, Swan, again I want to apologize for-"

"It's fine," she interrupts him quickly and chuckles at his incredulous look. "Seriously, Killian. We both know it was my fault. I basically jumped headfirst into traffic. With two cracked ribs I'd say I got off pretty easy."

"You right arm and your hip are pretty banged up too but nothing broken."

"I've had worse," she says easily.

And she has. There's very little pain as long as she sits perfectly still.

"In no way does that make me feel better," says Killian and she can't help but grin at him.

He is adorable. Wait. Emma squeezes her eyes shut as memories from the night before jump at her with the similar thoughts.

"Tell me I didn't embarrass myself last night," she pleads, cracking one eye open and already dreading his answer.

"Of course not," Killian says in all seriousness before he loses control of his shit-eating grin. "I find nothing embarrassing in you admitting to my prettiness and sweetness."

"Oh God!" Emma groans, her left hand coming up to hide her face and encountering the graze on her cheek.

She hisses, pulling her hand back, and Killian's amusement seems to evaporate. Still pretty though. And she must look an absolute mess. Of course, that's just her luck – getting a téte-á-téte the most handsome man she has ever laid eyes on while looking like… well, like she got run over. He doesn't seem too put off though. Actually…

"Did you call me an angel?" she asks incredulously.

Killian chuckles under his breath and she watches his hand reach to scratch a spot behind his ear.

"That does ring a bell, yes," he says, his cheeks tinged with pink even though he seems rather unapologetic about it. "Are you still sure you don't want me to call somebody for you."

Emma's eyes drop to her lap because this type of conversation was way easier when she was high on pain meds. But the guy has sat with her all night by the looks of his rumpled shirt and the bags under his eyes and it is high time she let him off the hook, much as she might have wanted to keep him around for a bit (or indefinitely).

"Nope. No worries," she says, trying for breezy and hoping she is not coming up too short. "And you can tell the nurses that I'm not suing anybody so they won't keep you locked in here any longer."

Killian's fingers are digging behind his ear again and this time he is the one who seems unable to meet her eyes.

"Actually," he starts, hesitating as his tongue flickers over his lips nervously. "The new shift came in this morning and I had to come up with a new excuse because-"

"Morning, Miss Swan!"

A cheerful, tall brunette enters her room, cutting Killian off and making Emma's jaw drop a little. The only situation in which she can imagine this girl as a nurse is in a porn movie or something.

"I'm Ruby! How are you feeling? Need any pain medication? Your boyfriend said you seemed to have more than enough last night."

She follows the girl's gaze to Killian, who is looking everywhere but at Emma, and she feels a mix of emotions. One, she has to admit that this excuse sounds way more plausible. Two, he is even more adorable when embarrassed. Three, she is unreasonably uncomfortable with Ruby communicating with her pseudo-boyfriend in any way. Four, she might be willing to consider removing the 'pseudo' part pretty soon.

"Yeah, I was," she nods at the ridiculously gorgeous nurse (and she seems nice and everything but if she could exit the room right about now, it would do wonders for Emma's ego) but keeps her gaze locked on Killian. "I might have been a bit too much last night. But I'm sure I can find some way to make it up to him."

Killian's eyes jump to hers immediately. Hook, line and sinker. Emma takes a deep breath and powers on, lifting an eyebrow at him and trying to leave her face more open than she has in years (last night excluded).

"I'm sure we'll figure something out," he replies, a bright smile slowly taking over his face.

Emma leaves the hospital two days later but not before putting down Killian Jones as her emergency contact.


End file.
